


trees by joyce kilmer

by candybank



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut, if u like pina coladas and infidelity, junhuis just mentioned btw get ur mind out of the gutter, justin is junhaos child LOL, kindergarten teacher mingyu, kindof, married minghao, yk yk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/candybank
Summary: so, he fucks a married man with a kid.





	trees by joyce kilmer

**Author's Note:**

> aries szn amirite..got people doing crazy things

mingyu doesn’t know how he got here. in retrospect to exactly three months ago when the school year started, when he first met xu minghao and laughed over silly anecdotes about how minghao and his husband, junhui, had arrived at the decision to adopt a sweet baby boy named huang minghao nearly five years ago despite knowing he’d have the same name as one of his dads; about how minghao and his husband, doctor wen junhui, had arrived at the decision to keep their son’s birth name, but had started calling him justin because they’d started getting confused; about how minghao and his husband, respected cardiologist at the local hospital doctor wen junhui, had submitted applications to all the kindergartens in town, and had taken so long trying to decide that justin had ended up going to school a whole year late; 

well, if he thinks in retrospect to _that_ specific point in time, when he walked up to minghao to reassure him that his little boy would be just fine, because he was the last parent standing outside of the classroom and he had worry all over his face like the crayon scribbling of a toddler on a white wall, when mingyu said hi, i’m mingyu, you can call me teacher kim, you’re justin’s father, right? when minghao nodded, and smiled, and pushed his glasses up his nose, and said, hey, sorry, i’m just a little nervous, it’s his first day, i’m xu minghao, by the way, it’s great to meet you, mingyu. when mingyu said justin’s going to be just fine, i’ll keep an extra close eye on him, and they looked over to a tiny boy in a bright blue shirt running around the room, and laughed, and he said, he has a lot of energy. when minghao nodded, as if the fact was painstakingly true, and he said, he sure is, he sure is, [insert silly anecdotes told as thinly veiled attempts at flirting here]—oh, shoot, well, i’m going to be late for work, and he put his hand on mingyu’s arm and said, thanks again for keeping an eye on him; 

well, if he thinks in retrospect to _that_ particular occasion, then yeah— _yeah_ , mingyu might know exactly how he got here: bent over his own desk, boob sweat on his tiddies, with the blinds closed and the doors locked and minghao inside him. like, full-on cock-in-his-ass, balls-on-his-thighs, hands-on-his-waist, nails-in-his hips, he’s-gripping-so-hard-i’m-sure-he’s-going-to-leave-bruises-but-isn’t-this-what-you-wanted-kim-mingyu-isn’t-this-exactly-what-you-fucking-wanted _inside_ him.

but hindsight is never 20/20, and if mingyu wasn’t so busy trying to ignore the fact that they’d used spit as lube (“why don’t you have lube in your desk?” “Why would i Have Lube in my Desk?” “because you’ve wanted me to fuck you on it for three months.”) maybe he would actually stop to think about how this is the worst thing he could ever possibly do; about how being a legitimate homewrecker and potential childhood-ruiner aren’t titles he wants to tack onto his resume.

but he can’t think, because minghao feels like sandpaper between his ass cheeks in the good way sandpaper feels sometimes when you’re a weird guy who rubs it in between your elbows for fun, and he sounds exactly like how mingyu has always wanted guys in porn to sound: not too loud, not too enthusiastic, low grunts spread few and far between and used as a metaphor for deeply-felt emotion.

call him a slut for emotional deprivation.

or just a slut. 

so, he pretends he doesn’t have a conscience, pretends he’s a horrible person who can actually fuck a married man with a kid, and he fucks a married man with a kid. modest ah-fuck’s and fuck-mingyu’s and fuck-minghao’s bouncing off of drawings of apples and alphabets and trees and birds and bees on the walls. mingyu gripping the edge of the table so hard he’s scared he’ll break the glass. catching, from the corner of his eye, a glint of light reflected off of the wedding band around minghao’s ring finger. trying to not look at the number-mats stacked near the door or the coloring books in the corner of the room or the valentines cards he’d had the kids (read: try to; kindergarteners rarely have legible handwriting) make for their parents because this so fucked up, this is _so fucked up_. 

his body tensing, tension releasing, knees weak and body burning. he never was much for poetry and literature, but mingyu thinks it’s a good metaphor—feeling like he’s been set on fire, like he’s being burned alive, because he’s going to hell for what he’s doing, and that’s exactly what they’ll do to him there. 

minghao comes inside him, and mingyu hates that he doesn’t feel ashamed of the last thirty minutes of his life—even his roommate, wonwoo, a high school teacher with a vocabulary so small that it probably doesn’t even include the word shame, even he had said that he’d felt ashamed after screwing the secretary of the school PTA (“i think i like one of my kids’ parents…” “ooh, you’re hot for a dilf. want me to talk to him? dilf to dilf?” “… wonwoo, you’re not a dad. and you’re definitely not an ilf—hey, remember soonyoung." “oh, yeah. that was hot. i mean, real toxic— after i spent time with him, i always felt like i was drowning in shame. but real hot.”) it’s a little too much to unpack at once, that he’s a horrible person and, even worse, he’s a more horrible person than wonwoo, so he puts it out of his mind. mingyu pulls up is boxers and zips up his pants and buckles his belt and buttons his shirt back on. the whole process of it seems to take forever, seems to start as soon as its over.

and minghao, beloved family doctor and family man xu minghao, when he’s done buttoning his dress shirt halfway, he pushes mingyu against the table and kisses him hard. kisses him for a long time, until his jaw starts to hurt, and tiredness finally settles over everything.

"get a burner phone."

**Author's Note:**

> i was UH experimenting w/writing styles and what not idek IDEK..98.9% sure im continuing this fic but its a pwp fer now !!!1 <3


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